


bone-white and blood-red

by p1013



Series: Kinkuary 2021 [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Creature Draco Malfoy, Creature Fic, Dubious Consent, Horror, M/M, Mentions of Blood, POV Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p1013/pseuds/p1013
Summary: The first time he sees it, Harry blames it on the darkness of the night. The street lights flicker on the cobbles, wet with rain and shining like the black bodies of beetles. Harry finishes his walk home believing that the motion he saw was nothing more than light on stone.But when he sees it a second time—a darkness that moves against the night, its edges sharp as a blade but gone when he looks too closely—Harry knows that something is following him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinkuary 2021 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140512
Comments: 27
Kudos: 134
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	bone-white and blood-red

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9 - Creature Fic

The first time he sees it, Harry blames it on the darkness of the night. The street lights flicker on the cobbles, wet with rain and shining like the black bodies of beetles. Harry finishes his walk home believing that the motion he saw was nothing more than light on stone.

But when he sees it a second time—a darkness that moves against the night, its edges sharp as a blade but gone when he looks too closely—Harry knows that something is following him.

It trails him from the moment he leaves the Ministry until he hurries up the steps to Grimmauld. When Harry avoids it by Apparating, he feels it watching him from the dark, compressed nothingness he travels through. It makes the already claustrophobic sensation unbearable. 

He doesn't Apparate again after that.

Instead, he hurries home, his footsteps like chattering teeth as they echo behind him. He can't hear the creature if he runs, but he feels it, a drum too low to hear but throbbing through him all the same.

He nearly catches it when the desperation turns to exhaustion, and he can't find the energy to run. Harry's head droops, his shoulders sag. His feet stumble over cobbles. When he trips, it trips, too, so in-sync with his motions that his mistakes belong to it as well.

As Harry falls to the ground, he twists his body and prepares himself to see.

White like bone and red like blood, and a darkness unlike anything Harry's ever seen before. He wants to scream, but before the air rips through his vocal cords, the thing is gone.

Harry lays on the wet street—his hands in puddles stained with blood—and fears.

* * *

It's raining again, like it has been all spring. A huge thundering storm that shakes the bones of Grimmauld. Harry's feet are pulled up onto the time-worn cushions of his couch. Wrapped in a blanket with the fire roaring in the hearth, he almost believes that he's safe, and that there isn't anything waiting for him in the night.

The knocking blends with the thunder, so Harry doesn't hear it at first. But as it picks up tempo and volume, he rushes from the parlour, his blanket discarded.

When he throws the door open, Harry finds a soaked Draco Malfoy.

They've worked together for the past three years, though not in the same department. Close enough, though, that they've wandered their way past animosity and into cordial ambivalence. It's a friendship Harry never imagined, but not one where Draco would show up in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm, in the middle of Harry's front step.

"Malfoy?" he asks. "What're you doing here?"

Draco's voice croaks when he speaks. "I didn't mean to…"

Harry hesitates only a moment before standing back and gesturing for Draco to enter. "Come in out of the rain, there's a fire going."

Draco follows when Harry leads him to the parlour. Stood before the fire—his back to Harry, his clothes as black as soot—Draco's silhouette looks like someone took a knife to the night sky and cut a piece from it.

"What's going on?" Harry feels on edge. He doesn't fear Draco, not anymore, but after the last weeks, Harry rarely feels calm. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry. I tried to stay away." Draco stoops forward. "I told myself I would."

Harry reaches for Draco, then stills, waiting.

He must sense Harry because he turns around. Slowly, his back to the fire, his swirling eyes still glowing like flames.

"Harry," Draco's voice cracks like stone, like cobbles, like black beetles underfoot. " _Run._ "

Somehow, Harry darts out the parlour door, but Draco is behind him. His footsteps thrum through Harry's body like a drumbeat. A floorboard—one Harry meant to repair before, when it wasn't too late—catches his foot. He falls, twisting, to the floor.

Malfoy is above him an instant later. The light in his eyes isn't human, and the shape of him—teeth, jaw, cheekbones, eyes—is keen, like Harry would cut himself if he touched. His hands bleed, and he tries to scream, but Malfoy's mouth is coming closer, his too-sharp teeth bone-white in the blood-red of his mouth.

Harry waits to be devoured, but Malfoy presses his lips to Harry's cheekbone, then his jaw. Harry tenses at every touch, waiting for pain, but left with want instead.

"Did you think I would hurt you? Kill you?" " Draco whispers with his broken voice. When Harry doesn't answer, Draco snarls. "You are _mine_. And what is mine, I will not squander."

Shivers ripple through Harry, but they're not from fear or cold. Though he's afraid, he _wants_.

He streaks blood across Draco's face when he clasps it between his hands and draws Draco's too-pointed mouth to his own.

They kiss. They devour. They tear at each other's clothes, at each other's flesh. The floor is cold, and Draco's body is cold, but Harry is on fire. He burns to ash, to soot, lets Draco gather his remains close, compressed carbon turned into a shining diamond and cradled in hands with claw-like fingers

When Draco penetrates Harry's body, there's no pain. Only a sense of opening, of being owned, of becoming one with something dark and indecipherable. Harry arches into each thrust, doesn't notice his own erection trapped between their bodies. It rubs against the smooth skin of Draco's stomach, a barely there pressure that's not enough but somehow too much.

Everything is too much.

When Draco sinks his teeth into Harry's neck, there's no pain. Only pleasure, a rush of it so powerful that Harry shatters apart. Blood trickles from the cracks of Draco's lips as he smiles.

The world fades. The edges of the hallway grow dark. Harry shivers, though not from fear or cold.

He is coveted. He is Draco's.

He will not be squandered.

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking to some friends about horror and figured, what the heck? Blame shealwaysreads for it only being 1k, though. She challenged me, I don't know how to not be competitive, and here we are.
> 
> Back to normal smuttiness tomorrow, I promise.


End file.
